Let me hold your hand
by momentaryfool
Summary: Living in New York allows Bella the freedom to hide from her demons. But fate has other plans as she meets that one stranger, on more than one occasion. He would like to be friends, but Bella is not capable of having any. Or so she thinks.
1. Montague and Capulet

_**Prologue**_

Bella set her book aside. Swiping three fingers across her left cheek, she pondered upon how many times she had read this. Montague and Capulet. Love in its most tragic form. Young love. Forbidden, traumatic and impossible.

The train came to a stop on 72nd Street and Bella stared on the ground as the doors opened. Although the pneumatic rattling made its presence known, she never looked up. Farther uptown, she turned page after well-worn page as she did every evening at this time.

The man sitting next to her shifted, his thigh grazing her stocking clad one briefly. "A bit sad for a train ride, isn't it?", he said when she looked up through her overgrown fringe. All she saw was his chin jutting towards her book. Glancing up further, she was met by inquisitive, teasing eyes. Green. Like a forrest grown.

"Um…" She had never been known to easy conversation, and wondered when during her journey had he joined her side.

The stranger raised a singular eyebrow, he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

She didn't have one.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, before finally taking a deep breath in, saying, "I'm Edward".

"Oh…" was all she could offer.

A smile grew on his face, hard to tell, but it seemed lopsided from this angle. The word 'rakish' came into her mind, but before she could offer her name, the train lurched to a standstill. Her stop. Almost by auto-pilot, Bella threw herself into the crowd, dashing forth, always with a slight fear of being left behind closed doors if she didn't push her way through. Unbeknownst to her, she had left the stranger a souvenir.

It wasn't until she reached her street, tucked away in a corner of Harlem, did she realize her scarf was missing.


	2. Life in New York

0800.

She was running mighty late. No, the trains were working fine. Alas, her fingers and toes were not. Fumbling through her drawer, Bella struggled to find a turtleneck. Must. Cover. The. Neck.

Yanking a forlorn-looking, pilled black turtleneck over her head, Bella squealed briefly as it caught on one earring. Her hair was a unsalvageable rat's nest and her cheeks were flushed. With keys jangling in her left hand, she hobbled to the front door whilst attempting to pull on her right ankle boot.

Bella was ready to cry at the thought of peak hour. But she blinked back her fears and ran for her life. 

Papa Rodero, her landlord, was the antithesis of all New York landlords. He all but threw a brown paper bag at her as she whizzed past him in a blur. Bella yelled out a thank you, and smiled gratefully at the winking grandfather. When she had finally got nestled amidst other commuters, she stole a sneak peak at today's sweet treat. A sticky chocolate muffin. Ahh, Rodero knew her well.

Deserts and candy were the only sweet things in Bella's short life.

With Shakespeare firmly in hand, she tried her hardest to ignore the constant proximity of heaving bodies, following the beat of the morning train. If she didn't look up, then nothing would bother her. The smells, sights and sounds all numbed by a well-trained mind. A mind that has forgotten what goodness deliberate touch can bring. A mind full of worry and constant motion. A mind full of rubbish…

Utter, absolute rubbish! That's what Bella imagined Mr. Darcy would say if he were present. She had been assigned storefront duty today. No longer allowed to be enamoured and ensconced in the perfumery of Shakespeare back in the storeroom, Bella was told in no uncertain terms that all the girls in the store were rotated through different stations. And today, it was her turn.

All she had to do was say, "Hello, how are you today? May I assist you in any way?". Repeatedly. While smiling. Genuinely. No no, not a grimacing kind of smile, says her lovely overrated supervisor, Jessica.

Still she felt shortchanged. To go from the dank darkness of the storeroom so abruptly to the bright twinkling lights of the showroom made her jittery. Her neck was starting to itch, and she wished she had never lost her beloved scarf. It was her security blanket.

"Hey!"

Bella whirled around, shocked by the sudden loud greeting. Masculine shoulders entirely too closeby. She looked up swiftly. Green Eyes.


	3. My Romeo he is not

He couldn't help himself.

Edward had walked into the store behind a Fifth Avenue sort. As the older lady turned to walk down the right hand side of the store, trainchick, as he had labelled her, materialized in front of him.

She works here, he thought. Her head was bowed in a subservient manner as she mumbled a near-incoherent 'Have a good day' to the lady while facing her.

"Hey!", he cried out. Oops. Edward smiled widely, but trainchick merely stared back at him with owlish eyes. He scratched the back of his neck in chagrin. That was awkward. Maybe she doesn't remember him.

"Hello, how are you today? May I assist you in any way?"

Wow. That was the most number of words he had ever heard her say. Her face was pale. Then pink. And as he continued staring at her with a foolish grin, it turned a blooming red. She had her hands clasped tightly in front of her pinafore.

Edward then noticed a blonde woman in a grey, standard issue suit staring at them in the periphery of his vision.

He leaned down towards trainchick, and whispered, "I'm looking for the ring section today."

Bella was stunned into silence as soon as she felt his warm breath caress her forehead. She pointed to where Marshall stood, ever ready to assist, assuage and convince customers of their needs.

Edward decided he would complete his errand, before returning his attention to the lovely creature in front of him. With a swift thank you, he walked away, his footsteps muffled by the rich heavy aubergine carpet.

Bella let go of the breath she was holding onto, and tried to keep her eyes focused on the revolving front doors. She heard bits of conversations taking place within the store. Andre the security guard was teasing a man over his choice of bling. Jessica had run off to assist Lauren with the old lady in kid gloves, and Marshall. Marshall was having a challenging time. His customer asked tough, detailed questions about diamonds. With her curiosity peaked, Bella turned her head almost imperceptively, only to see that GreenEyes had made Marshall pull out every worthy engagement ring design that the store had on display. He poured through them in detailed concentration, a groove in his skin appearing between his eyes.

It had been a week since he introduced himself on the train. EDWARD. During all that time, she had somewhat assumed him as her stranger. Someone who owed her a scarf. Instead, it seems, he was just someone who owed another person a ring.


	4. Ring around the Rosie

This ring choosing business was serious stuff. Especially when it's meant for your baby sister, and one gets roped in by a desperate best friend cum brother-in-law to be.

Rosalie was nothing if not classy. She adored nice things, fancy things, which is why it is rather bizarre that she ended up with Emmett. Em, as we call him, is akin to a giant oaf. He speaks without thinking, farts when he's drinking and generally doesn't realize how intimidating he can be due to his sheer size.

Edward grinned at the thought of Em scratching his head over rings. He so owed me now, he thought. I had been tasked to lay out the possible designs, and he would 'swoop in' and 'sweep her away' with the right one. His words, not mine.

Finally narrowing the choices down to 3 designs, I rubbed my hands satisfyingly on my thighs and sat up straight. I gave the store assistant the details, and he promised to wait on Emmett, who was out of town until Friday. Today was Monday, which might explain why the store was quiet. Storechick! That's right, trainchick had been promoted to storechick.

Edward turned his head to the right, searching for his storechick. She wasn't standing at the front entrance anymore. Instead, she was ushering a geriatric socialite to the private viewing room. Her brows were furrowed, lower lip between her teeth in concentration. Little did Edward know, that it was the touch that bothered her, and not the task itself.

Bella's knees felt wobbly. Was it not ironic that her legs were shaking while she helped someone whose legs were too shaky on their own? They finally made it there and after settling her into the plush bench seat, Bella excused herself.

She gripped the doorknob tightly when she shut the door, and turning around, was met by the green eyes of her stranger. No. Edward is someone else's stranger. He looked like he had been watching her, and was ready to come forward. Bella cast a sideway glance and saw Jessica appraising her yet again. When she met Edward's gaze again, she realized that he had followed her line of sight. Giving her an imperceptive nod, he took a few steps backwards, before finally breaking eye contact and walking out of the heavy doors.

Goodbye stranger.


End file.
